


All That Mattered

by babyflavoredblood



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Art School, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22252624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyflavoredblood/pseuds/babyflavoredblood
Summary: When opposites attract.OR, a small portion of the lives of two boys that meet in art school
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	All That Mattered

"I really like your work."

I turned to see a skinny boy with a bandana wrapped around his head, holding his hair back from his face. He wore large, back framed glasses and had paint splattered over his wrists and fingers.

"Oh...thank you."

He smiled, "I love how dainty and intricate your style is. I admire your control."

I nodded, looking at him. He represented anything but control. 

...

"So you're like...gay?"

"Most of the time, yes," I replied.

He was extremely ignorant, but he was a good fuck. 

"I never really bothered to define myself." He stared up at the ceiling. We were laying in bed, surrounded in white sheets.

I watched him. He still had that goddamned paint splattered on his hands. He wore it like tattoos, not bothering to wash it off.

"You're really pretty," he told me. 

It was a strange compliment. I just sighed, observing him. He turned to me, staring back into my eyes.

"Can I suck you off again?"

I smirked at that, and nodded.

He straddled me, leaning down to kiss me on the lips before snaking down my body. His lips were sweet and they stretched prettily around my cock.

I admired his movements for a moment, watching him bob up and down and not even react when I hit the back of his throat. 

He was an OK kid, I guessed.

He kissed me again after I came down his throat. And he smiled into my neck. He began rutting his already hard member against my stomach. He was flushed and red from his cheeks to his toes. I felt bad for the kid, so I jerked him off until he came on both of our stomachs. He apologized. He fucking apologized. And it made me feel guilty for some reason. So I kissed him on the lips, pretended to care, and told him he was beautiful. Maybe after a while, I did begin to care. I wasn't sure anymore.

We met up several times over the course of the next month. We fucked like it was necessary. Like we needed it. We did, in a way.

One day, he brought me a canvas splattered in black, and grey, and blood red, and dark purple. He told me it was us. And I fucked him that day like he was a piece of art. He looked a lot like the canvas. Covered in splatters of black, and grey, and blood red, and dark purple, and milky white ejaculate. And I started to believe what I'd said that first day. He was beautiful. And I started to care more than I had intended to. 

I'd catch him stealing glances at me in class. He'd chew on his bottom lip and smile when I met his eyes. He let me fuck him a little harder on those days. And he moaned a little louder.

On one late night, our third time in two hours, he moaned "I love you" as he came. When he realized what he'd said, his eyes went wide. He stared at me, scared out of his wits. I told him I loved him too. Maybe I meant it, maybe I didn't. I wasn't sure anymore. But I told him all the same, and he believed me. And that's all that mattered.


End file.
